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Something I gave up for Lent this year is online shopping. Yet I’ve come to realize in the past week that buying too much stuff isn’t the most prevalent problem. Yes, I could probably fill a six-foot bookshelf with the stacks of books piled around my room. The thing that is harder than not buying things is not even looking for them.

My younger sister jokes that for fairly large purchases (like a food processor or an iPhone) I start talking about them six months before I get around to buying them. I’ve never been much of an impulse buyer. But this Lent I’m giving up browsing, shopping, and slowly placing items in random online shopping carts. I have had to catch myself at least two or three times already from following links to Amazon or sites with random household products.

Why am I doing this? There are two primary reasons: I spend unnecessary time scrolling through websites and I don’t like what looking at so many material things does to my heart.

The first is the lesser of the two. It is important, though. Time is a treasure for which it is difficult to account. The minutes can slip away quickly as I look at what other books will fit nicely into my library. Or as I scout out birthday presents for family members in advance. If I am continually feeling like I don’t have enough time, then perhaps I need to evaluate how I invest my time.

But that second reason, that is probably what caused me to stop with the shopping and browsing. We live in a very materialistic world, but I’ve always felt fairly simple. That simplicity, though, seems to be more an idea than a practice. And I don’t like that it seems to be a quality I think I have but actually do not. Gazing at all of the things I don’t have yet might like to, makes me feel unsatisfied with what I currently have. Continue reading “Lent: When You’re Little Enough that No Virtual Window Shopping is a Sacrifice”→

Good men, the ones who know what it is like to fight the battle for virtue, are deeply hurt when other men don’t see the dignity in women. I have found this to be true in personal experience and the glimpses of truth that entertainment sources can provide. Real men value the unique role women have and they do not respect men who fail to protect women.

I was watching a TV show the other day and the plot centered on a woman who was found in a forest, badly beaten. Uncertain of the ones who committed the crime, the people aiding her were able to find her husband and sent word to him of her location. The woman revealed, however, that her husband was the one who had beaten her. The central male character in the show was profoundly disturbed by this reality. When given the chance to protect the recovering wife, the main character did so. He was overly vehement in his defense, the protection spiralling into beating the man himself, but that beating I could understand, even if not condone. Real men want to defend women, not manipulate or abuse them.

The numerous accounts of sexual harassment that have made the news over the past several weeks has been a bit disheartening. Last week, my class was reviewing an informational quiz they had taken about tech safety. One of the questions asked them to define objectification. Many did so accurately, speaking about how it means you treat a person as though they are an object. Then I asked a simple question, “Do you think men objectify women more or women objectify men more?” There was no statistic I had in mind; I simply wanted to see what they thought. Most people said men objectify women more, but some students argued it was equal.

In one class, however, the conversation continued and they began sharing how men objectify women in different ways than women do. They spoke of unwanted physical contact, vile words in catcalls, and other scenarios. Several of the young women in my class had situations or opinions they wanted to share. After a few shared, I began noticing the faces of the young men in my classroom. They seemed a bit defeated. I asked the women to pause their sharing for a moment so that some of the men could chime in. I didn’t want it to be a man-bashing session because good, virtuous men are as appalled by this behavior as women.

More than the words were the young men’s faces that produced an ache in my heart. There seemed a vulnerability in their faces. They couldn’t argue for what the men did because they knew it was wrong. But hearing about man after man hurting women dampened the natural exuberance they exhibited in my classroom. I was fine with the gravity of the situation, yet I didn’t want them to feel to blame simply because they are men. Feminism often takes the unnecessary step from desiring to be seen as equal to bashing men.

In social media and in the world at large, young men are seeing many examples of what not to do. I told them that men aren’t looking very good in the media right now and that it hurts because we know there are many, many good men. I challenged them to be the virtuous young men that our culture needs. A world that continues to tell us to “do what we feel” is now experiencing the results of doing what we feel. Unsurprisingly, most don’t like the results. I want my students to be the ones who change the cultural perception of what it means to be a man.Continue reading “The Gift of Good Men”→

It is necessary for me to fight the urge to write about each episode of This is Us. Although God is rarely mentioned, I discover ribbons of truth interwoven into every episode. The authenticity and genuine growth of the characters is unlike anything I have seen in a TV show before. I encounter truth in their interactions and truth in their experience of a beautiful, broken family.

One aspect I have particularly appreciated is the way they show that past hurts influence our current perspective of the world. The viewers see glimpses from different points in the characters lives and we begin to understand why different experiences crush them or fill them with joy or anger them. Through beautiful storytelling, we see, perhaps clearer than the characters do themselves, why they respond in different ways. In a brief flash, we are shown a moment of their life from twenty years earlier and then see how they respond to something similar as adults. They don’t respond entirely as we would expect, yet we are able to see how their choices are colored by past experience.

As the audience, we have questions about what happened in the missing years that we haven’t been shown, but I appreciate that there are few nice, easy answers for the characters. Situations aren’t simple. The correct move or response isn’t always obvious. Life isn’t always clear and we don’t always grasp how the past has a hold on our present. Yet This is Us attempts to show that facing our past, with all the hurts and wounds, seems necessary if we desire to move forward in wholeness and freedom.

Or perhaps that is what I read into it. Either way, it seems relevant in my life. Over the past few years, I have been going to spiritual direction and that poor priest has watched me dissolve into tears innumerable times. Sometimes it is because of a situation that recently happened, but many times it is due to something I thought I was “over” but was not.

The past is a powerful force. Our negative experiences are real, valid experiences and yet they should not be given the freedom to wreak havoc in our present life. Running away from these moments doesn’t transform the past nor does burying them deep within and trying to forget them. It is only in confronting them, in the light of the Father’s love, that we release ourselves from the chains our wounds can form.Continue reading “Healing, Truth, and This is Us”→

I have a problem with weakness. When a person’s weakness is on display in a way I don’t like, I find it difficult to be welcoming and open. Yet I also am convinced that being honest and sharing your heart is a necessary part of living an authentic Christian life. I understand that seeming as though I always have it together is detrimental to myself and others. However, seeing weakness in a way other than what I believe is an acceptable display is hard for me to embrace.

This realization–my understanding of vulnerability and yet my dislike of apparent weakness–makes me pause and wonder what is in this little heart of mine. Sometimes, I see weakness and I am drawn to the person. In a way, I suppose my heart responds like the Lord’s heart–the misery of another makes me desire to love them in the midst of the struggle. However, sometimes, I see weakness and I am repelled by it. I question why they struggle in that particular way or in such a public manner. Instead of feeling compelled to reach out to them and help them, I withdraw and wish they could get their act together.

Like I have said before, this heart of mine is far, far away from being a perfect heart.

I think a theme that has been woven into several of my posts is one of brokenness and seeking the Lord in the midst of that break. Yet I also want to have it together and I want other people to be composed. The other day at Mass, I found myself asking my heart a question, “How is it that you want people to share their brokenness and yet you don’t want to see weakness? Is there an appropriate way to be broken?”

Is it fair to criticize people for the way they fall apart? For the way they fail and are weak? I like when people talk about their humanity, but I’m less interested in actually seeing their humanity. It is silly, but I find myself arguing that I think there is a proper way to be broken. A recent experience in prayer highlights the freedom that can be found in being broken and revealing that brokenness.

In prayer, I was surprised to find an annoyance with him. He was obnoxiously calling out to Jesus and I resisted the urge to shush him. How could he be so shameless? In the midst of the crowd, he was crying out, causing people to acknowledge his blindness and his complete inability to change his situation. I wanted Bartimaeus to be more discreet and not draw so much attention to himself. However, to Bartimaeus, his helplessness was paradoxically a place of hope.Continue reading “Let the Weak Say: I Am Strong”→

As much as our world changes and the values and morals alter concurrently, sometimes it is good to see that embedded deep within us is a natural understanding of how we should respond. Many health situations that create controversy and endless disagreements often start from a good intention that is found within us as human beings. The push for assisted suicide generally comes from seeing someone suffering and acknowledging that things shouldn’t be that way. Our desire to eliminate suffering in others is good, but we don’t always pursue the correct course of action.

What this tends to create in society is the belief that each individual should be able to do what they think is best. As an individualistic society, we are quick to argue that nobody can force their beliefs and opinions on me. I am free to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Sometimes we will add the caveat “as long as I am not hurting anyone,” but often, culturally, we see our freedom as the one objective truth.

Do you remember hearing roughly a month ago about a MLB umpire who saved a woman from jumping off the Roberto Clemente bridge in Pittsburgh? I found the story a beautiful testament of someone caring about a stranger and doing something when others just walked by. What I find particularly interesting about the story is how it was reported. People came together to help a woman who was trying to jump off the bridge and commit suicide. John Tumpane, the man who first started helping the woman, is spoken of as a hero and as someone who saved another person’s life. These weren’t Christian news agencies, but this event was reported very similarly in several mainstream secular articles.

I agree that he was able to help save someone’s life, but I find the cultural inconsistency obvious.

This woman didn’t want to live. She made a plan, she started to carry out that plan, and then she was stopped by someone walking by. Most people will look at this as a positive ending to a story that could have been tragic. We see someone wanting to end it all and we rejoice that someone noticed and she was able to hopefully receive the help she needed.

In a purely individualistic sense, what I see is a woman who was not allowed to make a choice she wanted to make. She wanted to end her life, but other people decided that her life was worth living, worth saving. To us, it is easy to see this as heroism in action.

When Jesus appeared to His Apostles after the Resurrection, His hands, feet, and side still bore the marks of the crucifixion. His glorious, death-conquering body held the holes that won salvation. To be certain, His body was different than it was before. He was strangely appearing and disappearing, passing into locked rooms, and yet still able to eat and be touched. Dying and rising had changed His body. Gone was the appearance scarred beyond human recognition. However, His body still showed where nails and a spear had pierced Him through. Why was that?

There are several theological reasons, but I would like to focus on one minor, personal reason. I would argue that Christ kept His wounds to destroy our image of perfection. Here is the conquering King, the One who has fought death and won and yet–He still shows signs of this arduous battle. As the commander of this battalion, as the King who leads His people into battle, Christ is not unaware of the price of this fight. Our whole lives seem to be a battle towards Heaven. Christ doesn’t need perfect looking soldiers; He simply needs faithful ones.

The burden of perfection is one we place upon ourselves. We want lives that are neat and tidy, yet none of us have it. Sometimes we brand others as perfect, but that is only because we see portions of their lives and not the whole of it. And when we expect this perfection from them, we encourage them to fake it instead of living authentically.

Often, when I tell people that my two older sisters are religious sisters, I can see them mentally placing my family in a certain type of box. Years ago, I gave my witness in preparation for a summer of catechizing youth, and one of the critiques I received was that teens probably couldn’t relate to my story. While I understood what they meant, I couldn’t help but take it a bit personally. My story of an aching heart being separated from my sisters was not something they deemed relatable. Since then, I have discovered that it is something to which others can relate. Perhaps they don’t have siblings in religious life, but many have experienced anger and frustration with God and a plan you never wanted for your life. Continue reading “The Burden of Perfection”→

Nearly three years ago, I strapped on a hiking backpack and walked five hundred miles. As I walked El Camino de Santiago, people crossed my path who were completing the pilgrimage for the second or third time. While beautiful, I wondered why people would complete this trek multiple times. Once will be enough for me, I thought.

Yet now and again, I find myself longing to be on some dusty trail in the midst of the Spanish countryside. It isn’t because of my love for travel, although I suppose that does play a role. My desire to be on the Camino for a second time stems largely from my desire for simplicity.

On the Camino, it is easy to be simple. In fact, it is almost a requirement that one be simple. On your back, you carry all of your clothes, sleeping bag, toiletries, etc. Everything you think you will need along the Way, you must plod every blessed mile with it fastened to your back.

Sometimes it annoyed me to live so simply. I wanted a different outfit to wear. I was surprised at how much I found myself longing for a real towel and not the travel towel I would use each day. At times I wished to simply remain in the same place for more than an evening. There were several things that made me not like living simply.

Yet, in a very authentic way, I realized my heart was made for simplicity. When my closet of clothes overflows and the laundry basket is full, when my bookshelves no longer have room for the books I insist on buying, or when I find myself shopping online for things I realize I do not need, I remember that my heart is a simple heart. Yet I wish simplicity was forced upon me instead of needing to be chosen.

My possessions have a weight and I want to be free.

Sitting in a cluttered room, I find myself slightly jealous of my older sisters and their vows of poverty. To be free to be poor. I know I romanticize poverty, but there is a longing in my heart for less. And in that less, I know I will find more.

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing is needful.Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:41-42

For over thirty days, I walked the Camino and if I did it again, I would pack less. There is a simple beauty in choosing between two outfits. There is a simplicity found in needing to walk a few miles each day. I’ve never been so aware of my feet before. And rarely have I felt like I’ve spent the entire day just being and walking in the Lord’s company. Those lovely, simple things make the Camino something I wish I could be doing right now. Continue reading “When Simplicity Must Be Chosen”→

Not too long ago, I went out for supper with a friend. There were couples and families out at the restaurant, but I was struck by the groups of women there. One long table was filled with women who appeared to be out celebrating some event. But there were at least two other booths of women and it made my heart glad to see them there.

Between bites of food and conversation, I would glance over at the booths of women. They were already seated by the time we got there and, after we had a leisurely meal, they were still there when we left. Perhaps it seems strange, but seeing these groups gave me encouragement. What they were doing was simple: it was a handful of women out for food and drinks. I never saw them photograph themselves or their food. Instead, they were talking and listening to one another. I couldn’t hear their conversation and I didn’t want to, yet it was obvious that it wasn’t superficial banter. Different ladies would speak and the rest would listen intently. It was obvious that they were drawn together by bonds of trust and friendship.

Did they speak about work successes or any difficulties involved? Did they discuss dating relationships or family matters? Were they discussing ideas or the state of world affairs? I don’t know, but I am convinced they were discussing matters that they held close to their hearts.

I will never argue that I am the best at maintaining or building friendships, but I know that true, authentic friendships add a richness to life. While I had friends in high school, I think my first experience of deep friendships happened at college. I’m not one to have lots and lots of friends or share deeply with many people, but I found a great joy in entering into intimate friendship with people who pursued the same values I did. Continue reading “Maybe Friendship Could Change the World”→

I am a long way from having a family and kids of my own, but this morning I was led to consider what I would want it to look like. Although I didn’t come up with specifics, I reflected on a few elements that I would like to implement somehow. From my vantage point, I am still able to be filled with high-minded ideals and hopeful expectation of a peaceful family life. In the midst of fighting children, endless laundry, and a whirlwind of activities, I am sure my ideals will be made a bit more practical and a bit less perfected.

While at times difficult to discern, parents have a tremendous impact in shaping their children’s personalities and values. Yesterday, my sister and I took our niece and nephews to a play. Throughout the whole play, my niece would slide over to me and say excitedly, “I can’t wait!” or “I’m so excited!” It never really made sense to me until I re-told the story to her mom later. My sister-in-law said that her daughter was probably saying what she had been saying over the past few days in anticipation of moving to a new home. If this can happen for phrases or actions, then the same would be true for matters of faith.

Parents are the primary educators of their children in the faith. When parents model the faith, the children will seek to do the same thing. It is a monumental task that can seem a bit overwhelming. At their baptism, you promise to instruct them in the faith and lead them to Heaven. So this morning in Mass, I considered: how does one do this? Continue reading “The Evangelized Family”→

I’m not certain I had ever quite seen it that way before. At Sunday Mass, I was looking up at the large crucifix behind the altar and I was slightly fearful. That wide open heart, that vulnerable heart, that posture of being unable to defend oneself is what He wants from me. And it scares me.

A nail pierces each hand, fixing them in place. He is unable to shield Himself from anything: not the hurled insults, not the mockery, not the physical blows should it come to that. Briefly, I pictured myself unable to curl up into a ball to protect my heart, to shield my face. It was terrifying. I would not be simply defenseless before loved ones but before my enemies. That place of weakness seemed to be too much to bear. At least in the face of persecution and mockery, I like to appear to be strong and resilient.

And the people stood by, watching; but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him vinegar, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself! (Luke 23:35-37)